


Fragments

by addie_cakes



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Really A Happy Ending, Post-Break Up, Sorry guys!, but it's not that bad, lots of introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 22:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addie_cakes/pseuds/addie_cakes
Summary: "Shoma’s lost something, too, in this breakup. Yuzuru hasn’t been able to only hurt himself; he had to take Shoma with him. Yuzuru has the right idea by ending things, but he’s had to be the bad guy, and maybe that’s where Shoma’s been unfair to him. He would have let a dead relationship go on forever because he hates change so much and because he’s always been terrified of losing the other man.Even if the two of them are better apart, Shoma’s allowed to be upset that Yuzuru gave up on their relationship. He's selfish."(Shoma navigates a break-up with varying results).





	Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been and never will be good at writing sad/angsty things, and I know that I always write too much about the coach-student dynamics, but it's something that I really enjoy doing...hope you guys still enjoy!

Mihoko catches the look on Shoma’s face before he can even begin to process anything else.

That disappointment, overwhelming and relentless, but quiet, as if Shoma has seen this coming for a while, but actually hearing it, whatever it is (and Mihoko knows what is), has dismantled him in such a way that it’s not obvious to anyone who doesn’t know him well.

Shoma's like a crumbling tower whose destruction is invisible to everyone else.

That scares her more.

He’s been on the phone for the past twenty minutes, voice dangerously quiet as he half-bickers and half-endures the bickering of the person on the other end of the call, and while Machiko had at first scolded her student her wasting his practice time, she backed off when Shoma shot her a hard look, not unkind, but foreign enough for his usual demeanor that the older woman let him continue without question.

As he has been for the past few weeks, Shoma’s talking to Yuzuru. Under normal circumstances, Mihoko thinks that the two of them are well-suited for each other—Yuzuru’s outgoing but calm personality typically balances Shoma’s reserved but easily shaken self. The older man has always been perceptive enough to know when Shoma needs to be assisted and when it’s alright to tease him, and Shoma in turn expects nothing from Yuzuru other than himself. Between the two of them, Shoma's always been encouraged to work harder, and Yuzuru's able to take a break from having the eyes of the crowds and the weight of the world on him.

But it’s occurred to Mihoko, as it has to Machiko and as it has to Shoma himself, that the last phone calls have been increasingly frustrating, at least on the younger man’s end. He and Yuzuru both speak to each other at inconvenient hours and are therefore more likely to get into arguments. The season has been difficult for both of them, but Mihoko thinks it might be more frustrating for Yuzuru, who still has to deal with a confusing lack of respect, not from Shoma but from others, despite the fact that he holds two Olympic gold medals and all the records and other titles that accompany him.

With this horrible battle with the new point system and the different time limits for programs and the race for the quad Axel, though—it’s no wonder Yuzuru has been calm at all, and although he’s a good enough person to never directly snap at anyone, it’s evident that Yuzuru is tense.

And when he’s stressed, he closes himself off. He always has.

The problem, however, is that Shoma’s on the receiving end of this coldness, and he hasn’t been able to navigate it well without shutting down himself. Shoma doesn’t deal with being ignored, not actively. When he reads a room, he supposes that the general feeling, right or wrong, is the one he should assume, as well.

So if Yuzuru wants silence, or if Yuzuru wants to argue, then Shoma responds in kind and doesn’t try to diffuse the problem. Sometimes, he tries to ignore it, which makes it even worse.

Now, though, something seems different. Shoma’s standing, but his body slackens like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and he lowers his phone for a moment as if he’s processing what’s been said. Quickly, he corrects himself, as much as he can, and escapes the rink in such a haste that Mihoko’s tempted to follow.

Machiko’s hand around her arm plants her in her spot, but her brows furrow together concernedly.

“They’re boys,” the older woman simply says with a shrug. “They fight when they’re stressed, and they have no clue what they’re fighting about.”

With an uncertain nod, Mihoko tries to turn her attention back to anything else. She’s grateful that Shoma’s by himself today because she’s not sure she could give her attention to anyone else right now. It isn’t that Shoma’s enormously special or that she likes him more than any of her other students, but she’s just known him so long that she knows all his tells.

And leaving before being excused? Huge tell.

To his credit, Shoma returns soon afterward, maybe even just five or so minutes, but it’s evident that it’s been an eternity for him. The young man walks into the room, gently lays his phone next to his jacket, and finds his way onto the ice. He doesn’t look at Mihoko, but his eyes search for Machiko for a few moments, like he’s begging her to say something perhaps comforting or at least funny to take his mind off whatever it is that’s going on. Machiko's always been someone safe to whom Shoma can run, as he always had since he was a little boy who wanted to get out of trouble. Without being in trouble, though, he just looks lost.

Machiko looks sympathetic, because of course she does. She loves Shoma, just as much as Mihoko does, wants to protect this young man from anything that could ever bother him, but the older woman doesn’t have any words for him because she won’t ask him to talk about it.

Sighing, Shoma looks away, his cheeks dusted with red, and he begins to skate, not bothering to ask either of his coaches for input or instructions. He doesn’t want to hear anything, and neither woman feels inclined to bother him.

The only reason Mihoko even considers asking Shoma to slow down and pause his practice is because she’s worried that his being preoccupied with whatever Yuzuru Hanyu’s put him through this time will affect his focus and result in a fall or an injury. Surprisingly, though, Shoma glides easily across the surface of the ice, lands an easy-looking quad flip, and resumes.

Apparently, anger suits Shoma’s skating, but it doesn’t suit him, Mihoko thinks, when at the end of the hour he turns back to them wordlessly.

This time, Machiko is quick with a firm pat on the shoulder. “None of that moodiness next time, or I’ll tell your mother.” She probably only halfway means that threat, but Mihoko doesn’t think it’s wise to test the woman.

Shoma doesn’t seem particularly bothered. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, since I don’t think he’s going to call anymore.” Before Mihoko could ask for clarification, Shoma’s storming out the door, nearly running out of the room.

Mihoko looks at Machiko helplessly. The older woman frowns, folding her arms across her chest. “…they’re boys,” she repeats.

Mihoko’s not sure it’s as simple as that.

* * *

Maybe Shoma’s practices have been going better, and so Mihoko thinks that there might have been something to Yuzuru’s reasoning that his and Shoma’s relationship was distracting to both of them. But she sees the aimless way Shoma walks around, like he’s questioning everything now, and it’s not right, and it’s in fact sad, and she reminds herself that she’s always wanted to see her students happy and healthy rather than win every single competition.

In the course of Yuzuru and Shoma’s breakup, it occurs to Machiko first that Shoma’s been losing out on sleep. As she’s always known Shoma to be a perpetually sleepy and quiet person, almost comically so, Mihoko regretfully doesn’t notice the difference. She’s too busy focusing on his change in attitude, his more silent self now, that it isn’t until Machiko takes her aside and mentions it to her that the younger woman begins to watch.

It’s true that Shoma’s got dark circles under his eyes, yawns into his hand when he thinks that no one’s watching him, but before he can nod off in the quiet of a moment, his eyes snap back open.

He can’t go on like this, Mihoko thinks.

Of course she’s happy that Shoma’s putting so much into his work ethic, but when she catches him staring at his phone in a desperate sort of way as if he’s willing it to ring, she sighs, walking over and sitting down beside him. Machiko keeps a close watch, nodding approvingly.

Looking up from his spot, Shoma all but wilts under his coach’s gaze. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” he asks.

She’s not surprised that he’s jumped to this conclusion because everything Shoma’s been certain of for the past few months has been turned on its head. He’s never been in a relationship before, and now he’s not again, but he feels like he’s done something wrong, wrong enough to make someone that he feels is absolutely perfect like Yuzuru to break up with him.

“Of course I’m not,” she says gently, honestly, tapping his hand. For a few moments, she’s quiet, looks at Shoma as she tries to find the right thing to say, and finally decides to say, “What did your parents say?”

Without Mihoko’s having to clarify, Shoma knows what she means. Moving from one foot to the other, Shoma shakes his head. “I haven’t told them.”

“Why?” She pats the chair in front of her desk, then goes to sit across from it.

As he sits down, Shoma halfway rolls his eyes as if annoyed. “I don’t know, I just don’t want them to think that I…maybe I did something to screw it up, and—“ he has to pause to reconsider himself. “I know it’s not my fault, I know he’s stressed, and he’s the one who…”

Mihoko doesn’t urge him to continue as he trails off. She understands, mostly. It’s embarrassing enough for Shoma, that he was dating Yuzuru one moment, and now he might be in a position to tell others that they’re not anymore, but he doesn’t want to add insult to injury by having to talk to his family about it.

“I get it,” the woman smiles back, comfortingly. “I’m glad that you know that this whole thing—it wasn’t anything that you did. You both are going through different things, maybe you need some time apart.”

With a shrug, Shoma looks back down, then flicks his gaze upward. “I could’ve been more helpful, I guess. But he’s got a lot going on, and I…I wasn’t enough right now.” He takes in a sharp breath and bites down on his lip, a hint of heartbreak crossing his features, the look in his eyes promising that another wayward word would tip him over the emotional edge, and Mihoko isn’t sure if she would rather see him like this—on his way to a painful breakdown, or resigned, as he has been.

She knows that she doesn’t mind if Shoma wants to cry or get mad or feel petty. He loves Yuzuru, but he’s allowed to be mad at the other man.

Even if the two of them are better apart, Shoma’s allowed to be upset that Yuzuru gave up on their relationship.

But that’s not how Shoma is. He’s not a vindictive person, and he tries to understand Yuzuru’s reasoning. As blunt a person as Shoma is, he works to compensate for his own drawbacks by being sensitive to other people’s feelings.

And Yuzuru Hanyu, Mihoko knows, is an emotional person. He’s somewhat of an enigma, though, in that Yuzuru wears his heart on his sleeve and then tries to cut off his own arm so he can hide them.

When it comes to Shoma, he’s especially odd. To be fair to the young man, Mihoko knows how much Yuzuru loves Shoma. It’s evident in the small smiles and the gentle teasings and the constant attention, the warmness that fills his eyes whenever he so much as looks at Shoma. Maybe it scares Yuzuru, that he values someone so much and yet still has to compete against that person.  

She doesn’t blame Yuzuru for ending things, but she does, because he’s broken up with Shoma, and in her eyes, Shoma deserves better.

“I’m not really in a place to say this,” Mihoko begins, “but you were always there for him.”

Shoma nods, just barely, still trying to convince himself of this fact.

She continues, “And I know you. If he needs you now, you’ll still be there for him. And I’m sure he would still want you to reach out to him if you need anything.” Mihoko stands, Shoma following her movement, and she walks toward the door, holding it open for him.

“…you’re going to be okay, Shoma, but you have to try to get back to you.”

Shoma seems to know what she means, because he sighs again, this time more heavily. He’s quiet for longer than she’s comfortable with, and when Shoma does finally speak, his voice is dangerously quiet. “I’m just so used to talking to him before bed, and now I just can’t.” He almost laughs, barely, but enough that he’s finding some humor in this whole situation. “We weren’t even dating that long.”

But he’s been in love with Yuzuru for years. This isn’t something he’ll get over easily.

She moves to pat his shoulder in a supportive gesture, but Shoma, in a surprising movement, gives her a one-armed hug, pulling away after a beat of silence. He smiles lightly, still sadly, but it’s an effort that Mihoko appreciates.

Mihoko gives him a sweet but stern sort of look. “You really need sleep, don’t you?” More than ever, Mihoko’s aware of the change in the coach-student relationship between herself and Machiko and Shoma. They’ve known him for so long that they’re practically family, and Shoma’s finally made it through that stage in life that made him uncomfortable showing emotions. He’s sensitive, and he likes talking to his coaches, and he’s alright with letting them know how he feels about something.

It might be bad for Mihoko, too, that she’s become so attached to this young man. His relationship issues have bothered her more than she assumed they could.

“Probably,” Shoma agrees, hurrying out of her office before she can stop him for anything else.

Although Shoma is having a difficult time processing everything, Mihoko knows that he cares about himself, too, and his body. Losing sleep isn’t something he’s comfortable doing, and now that it’s been brought to his attention, she knows that he’ll do everything in his power to act in a healthier manner.

It’s a good thing, too, because she knows that Machiko was very close to dousing Shoma in lavender, shutting off the lights and playing relaxing music until he fell asleep right in the middle of the rink.

* * *

 The two coaches catch him sleeping during one of the group training sessions. He’s peaceful, so they unanimously and silently agree to let him rest for a few more minutes before waking him up.

* * *

Although Shoma’s been feeling better and has even gotten back to a semi-regular sleep schedule, Mihoko sees the look on his face when he and Yuzuru run into each other at the hotel before the Grand Prix Final. Neither of them can exactly run away, and Japan’s too far away from Canada, so Shoma has to suck it up, so to speak, and smile.

He greets Yuzuru almost a little too easily, and Mihoko momentarily worries that her student will fall right back into the habit of waiting for Yuzuru.

What he does, though, is glance over at Yuzuru, smile in his shy way, and begin to walk in the other direction. He’s keeping his head high, and his shoulders look straight, but there’s a tension in his jaw, an unspoken plea of Shoma’s as he wills himself not to fall apart then and there.

Gone before Yuzuru can even react, Shoma furiously presses the elevator button, not even waiting for Mihoko to catch up with him as she waits to receive their room keys. The doors slide open, and Shoma steps inside. When he turns around, Mihoko sees the break in Shoma’s resolve, the quiver of his lip as he tries to get the doors to close again.

“Second floor—“ she calls after him, not even sure if he's heard her or is hearing anything aside from the rushing of blood in his ears.

He’s going to cry soon, and it’s hard to know that just seeing Yuzuru forces such a reaction for Shoma, but Mihoko has to remind herself that he’s young. He has time to be dramatic, time to figure out what he’s willing to put up with and what he has to get over. But it’s difficult for the woman, knowing that she’s powerless to protect him from this.

There’s nothing to protect him from.

Yuzuru’s a good person, and when the elevators close, Mihoko looks over at the young man, catching the crack in Yuzuru’s own armor. His mouth is in a thin line, and his eyes are melting at the sight of Shoma. Yuzuru looks as if he wants to say something, to run after Shoma, to say that the two of them could figure out the issues between them, the ones that had been too obvious to Yuzuru and had been ignored by Shoma, but he doesn’t.

He stands there, waits for Brian to hand him a room key, and walks away, only looking back over his shoulder at Mihoko once.

She almost thinks that it’s his silent apology, because he knows that Shoma’s lost something, too, in this breakup. Yuzuru hasn’t been able to only hurt himself; he had to take Shoma with him, and it’s obvious that that’s where Yuzuru hates himself. Because he’s always thought Shoma to be innocent and sweet and unselfish, Yuzuru’s certain he’s ruined the younger man.

Shoma’s selfish, too. They both are. They’re supposed to be; they’re athletes. They should both strive to be better than everyone else, and neither will, if they’re worried about sparing the other’s feelings.

Yuzuru has the right idea, but he’s had to be the bad guy, and maybe that’s where Shoma’s been unfair to him. He would have let a dead relationship go on forever because he hates change so much and because he’s always been terrified of losing the other man.

Now that he knows what life without dating Yuzuru is like, Shoma’s going to grow to be a stronger person, a fiercer competitor, and probably a better boyfriend, in the long run.

She doesn’t need to know about that last part. All Mihoko needs to know is that Shoma will get better.

Deciding to take the stairs, Mihoko is glad that it doesn’t take long to find Shoma. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees brought up to his chest as he stares at nothing. The young man’s eyes are only rimmed red a little bit, so Mihoko decides not to worry about him too much.

Before she can say anything, Shoma comes to a conclusion, all on his own. “I had a thousand things I wanted to say to him, but I couldn’t. I…I love him, and I know he loves me, but maybe we’re not supposed to be together.” He chews on his lips, ever-chapped, and then smiles bitterly. “Maybe if I finally beat him, he won’t be so afraid of losing to me.”

Mihoko’s brows are knit together in concern. This whole time, Shoma’s been afraid of losing Yuzuru, and he assumes that Yuzuru was afraid of losing _to_ Shoma.

He can’t be more wrong. Yuzuru’s fear isn’t that Shoma could beat him, it’s that Yuzuru could do something to prevent himself from competing to the best of his ability. Shoma really has nothing to do with it, but then, that problem’s in Shoma, that he truly thinks Yuzuru is that much above him in skill and ability that the older man could see losing to Shoma as an embarrassment.

That mountain is Shoma’s to climb. Neither Mihoko nor Machiko, not Yuzuru or anyone else, can help him figure it out unless he recognizes it himself.

After a few more moments, Shoma pulls himself to his feet, looking over at his suitcase. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll see what it’s like this time.” He shrugs, taking the card key from Mihoko’s hand and opening his door. Before he closes the door, he offers a more genuine kind of smile. “I’ll see you at practice.”

She nods, returning the expression. “I want to see your best.”

With a newer resolve in his eyes, one that’s a little harder than Mihoko might like to see, Shoma says, “You will.”

* * *

Brian helps Yuzuru roll the suitcases into his student’s room, refusing to comment on the sudden change in the young man’s demeanor. Yuzuru is sullen but not moody, like he’s been deflated of all his normal buoyancy. It’s strange, because he hasn’t seen that sort of attitude in a few weeks, not since Yuzuru had informed him that he and Shoma weren’t seeing each other any longer.

Although the older man understands why Yuzuru feels the need to be single so that he can focus on his goals, Brian thinks it’s a bit of a shame. Shoma’s good for Yuzuru, and Yuzuru deserves someone who loves him as much as Shoma does.

But Yuzuru will do as he wants, and if he wants this space, then Brian certainly doesn’t feel in a position to correct him. He’s just the coach, so he shouldn’t pry when Yuzuru doesn’t want him to.

“I’ll see you in a few,” Brian says.

Yuzuru nods without a word, still searching for something that Brian can’t see, and the older man eventually sighs, closing the door behind him.

He’s not sure how thin the walls are or how soundproof the rooms aren’t, but when Brian still has his body positioned close to the door, he’s certain that he hears something different. 

It almost sounds like crying.

**Author's Note:**

> This will also be a prompt posted on my Tumblr, figure-skating-prompts.tumblr.com!
> 
> I also thought about this (and forgot to post that this is just a one-shot for now), but I don't want to make any definitive statements about characterization, since this is told mostly from one perspective, and in this kind of situation, I think that makes the biggest difference.


End file.
